


Liminal Magic

by ladygrange



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: F/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, i would like to add nuzzle to that list, i'll never get over that word or its intimate physicality (its etymological r/ship with nose!!)l, images or tones of voice, many times this writing feels like lace making, mostly i'll just never get over that bearded face, or expressions of a face, or just a feeling, someone once told me they knew my fics because of crinkles and beard, the kind with the carved bobbins laid left and right and over each other, they thread and ripple outward from somewhere between the webs of my fingers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygrange/pseuds/ladygrange
Summary: In the beginning of the story, Emma reads an article by Allan McDougall called “Led Take-Over Germany,” which was published in New Musical Express in July of 1970. The full article is available on the LZ website. The phrase, soft animal of her body, comes directly from Mary Oliver’s poem, “Wild Geese.”Thank you for reading <33
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	Liminal Magic

_ Somewhere Outside Pangbourne - July 23, 1970  _

“‘Zeppelins of a Led variety went back to Germany last weekend and for four days took complete command of the country. I travelled–’” 

She breaks off reading the magazine’s page. Scanning. Brows furrowed. 

Water plays from the brook laid glittering before their perch on a carefully chosen bank. Jimmy’s head rests contented in her lap. Her other hand sits in his dark beard, scratching as she speaks.

“‘I’ve never seen them perform live before, and by the third night of the tour, I could see exactly why they had achieved such an  _ exalted _ ,’” she flits her gaze down at Jimmy and raises her brows, “‘…exalted pinnacle of success.’ ”

An amused smile ruffles through her expression as she skims the column.

“He’s called you a Druid Priest, Jimmy. Apparently your wardrobe is–wait now here it is. Takes his time getting to the concert, doesn’t he. Ready?"

Jimmy nods into her palm. He takes her hand from his cheek to play idly with her fingers.

“‘There were hordes of police with water-cannons ready to quell the anticipated riots, but Zeppelin left the audience too limp from the sheer excitement of the two-and-half hour show. Even the police were toe-tapping and hand-clapping when Robert requested it. Led Zeppelin are really something else–they even made the tough Berlin police bop in the aisles.’” 

She folds the magazine closed with a smart rustle. 

“Very complimentary. How does it read to you?”

Jimmy grins, and crinkles form outside his eyes. “It was all for that antique mirror and table, my darling.”

“Oh, shut up,” she grins back. “The idea of a piece of furniture with its own airplane seat is ridiculous enough. I want to know what  _ you _ think.”

Jimmy mulls his response while inspecting her knuckles. His long legs sprawl in the lush grass, bare feet lost in the greenery. Clogs forsaken to the side. Red velveteen shirt half-unbuttoned from the bottom. Only the top two buttons remain closed at his neck.

“The gigs were stronger towards the end. Though the kids got rowdier. It was good to get out to Bath at least, connect again. German audiences are tough to read.” 

She gives him a wry look. “Not according to this."

Her fingers are dangerously close to being inside his mouth. Jimmy’s beard tickles her wrist. 

“I’ll be happy to go again and play again,” he says to her skin. “Better, if I can manage it.”

“You mean go to antique shops again.”

Jimmy hums and kisses the pad of her index finger. “That too."

She frees her hand, ignoring his pout. Instead, she puts her hand to his belly. Silky sun-warmed skin with a trail of crisp hair beneath his belly button that her fingers swirl and dawdle and play. She leans down to meet hooded green eyes. Lids soft from the sleep of a few days off. She intends to kiss those later.

“You’re alright?” she asks, quiet but serious.

“Yes.” Jimmy breathes deep under her touch. “Right now I am.”

A slow smile breaks across her face. “Good. And I’m sure the next stint will be even better."

“You’re very persistent, my darling.” 

She meets his gaze, her eyes luminous, a bit self-deprecating. “You’re lucky I’m not obsessive as well.”

Jimmy turns his face to her belly, kissing through her clothes, voice muffled but smiling. “Mmm, no, not obsessive at all.”

She traces the edge of his fringe thoughtfully. “I think I might’ve cut this badly. Bit too short on one side. Or else I’ve gone farsighted.”

Jimmy chuckles and raises himself from her lap to sit on his haunches before her. “You’re not farsighted, my darling.”

“Are there scissors in the car? Can you get them?”

Jimmy takes her face in his hands. “Give me a kiss first.”

“It’ll only take a second,” she says, even as she leans in. Even as he takes her mouth. 

Jimmy coaxes her to lie down. With long, languid kisses. How he manages both concentration and lazy exploration, she doesn’t know. She can taste orange juice on his tongue, sharp citrus, his nose presses to her cheek. She can catch the bristle of his beard, the long dip of his tongue with hers. She breaks away panting.

Bright pleasure gleams in his eyes. Crinkles pleat across his temples.

She kisses his lower eyelid, then over the downy rise of his smiling cheeks. Nuzzles into a beard dark and thick and raspy soft on her mouth. Jimmy’s pulse thumps insistent when she journeys to his neck. For a bite. Crescent teeth marks show neatly in his skin. She smothers her kisses into the sensitive bend near his shoulder and slips the last two buttons free.

Tucked in deep shade, mist rising from the brook in a golden hue, all else seems distant. Even the upcoming American leg of the tour and the recent German gigs. Even Pangbourne, fuzzy as a dream.

But this place, sun drenched and pretty, real as his naked skin beneath her lips. Unreal, too, because they will pick up and leave soon. Drive the way they came, past pasture and fence. Jimmy to his work and she to hers. Now, she’s determined to kiss the circle of his nipple and pull at the little protrusion. 

“Do that again,” he urges, settling beside her. 

She obliges his other nipple until it’s just as stiff and pebbled. By the time she reaches his blue jeans, Jimmy’s lips are parted and red as his shirt. Gleaming against his beard. Erection once straining the front of his trousers now free in her hands. 

She licks the salty smear at the tip of his cock. Drinks in his flushed skin and that rigid pulse. The ripple of his belly when she sucks the crown. All of him rooted in black hair. Beautifully hard. 

The sight puts a tooth of want in her belly, pierces every thought. She could swallow him whole. And she gets near enough with the head of his cock nestled to her tonsils. Tongue writhing and curling on the underside. Jimmy cups the back of her head with a trembling hand and a shocked expression. Torn between coming right then and there and waiting. Delaying. She gasps when he tugs her away.

He senses her protest before she can utter a word. “I don’t want to come in your mouth, Emmaline. I want to come inside you.”

“Inside…” she whispers faintly. In an ache for him. That tremendous tender bruise of a want.

Jimmy nods and wipes her bottom lip clean of spit, kisses her chin then arranges her naked on the ground.

Wet, open kisses land on the side of her neck. Beard pricks deliciously on her skin, wakes and rasps every nerve. She takes his head to her breast, threads her fingers into his hair, and arches into the long, wet pull of his mouth on her nipple. Pleasure thrums in her breathy cries.

And in the fluttering, downy grass, she spreads her thighs wide so he can suck the soft, pink flesh between her legs. Fragile skin blushing from his beard. Slick on his tongue. Jimmy suckles at the plump bundle her clit’s become. Her toes strain taut then curl under his touch.

Then she’s coming too soon. Incandescent pleasure tended to and adored by his mouth. Fingers burrowed sweetly inside her sex.

On his knees, her hips canted up, Jimmy looks at her with his hair ruffled and long down his shoulders. Satisfied that the natural slope of the land accommodates the positions so well. That she takes him in one slippery go. 

She watches his shaft disappear, then come back wetter than before. Positively glistening. She clutches him inside as though he might not give it back. Jimmy drags his thumb over her clitoris. 

Another orgasm dangles just out of reach. Makes her wriggle impatiently. A frown turns her lips when Jimmy pulls out. 

“Stop squirming, darling,” Jimmy chides. “I want you to come like this."

Her head tosses on the ground. “Too s-slow.”

“Hush,” he whispers. 

Full, stretched, tendrils of hair stuck to her neck, she gives her language over to inarticulate sounds. Words turn to gripping hands, one fisting the grass, the other reaching for Jimmy. He folds himself closer, pushes deeper, and molds her palm to his cheek. Jimmy offers kisses to her palm and nuzzles her wrist with his beard. He sucks her finger rhythmically into the heat of his mouth.

A whimper resembles his name as she comes. Orgasm too strong, fierce and unending; Jimmy rolls her swollen little clit under his thumb. He holds her hand against his face even when it would have slid off. With a final kiss to her palm, Jimmy lowers himself above her.

“Again?” 

She nods, dazed and breathing heavy.

Jimmy fucks her with such urgency her breasts jostle. Eyes glazed with pleasure, he flits from her face to her sex. Where they join, where she still flutters around him. 

She takes each thrust with kisses smudged across his neck, under his beard. She knows he’s close–knows his every seam.

Jimmy stiffens and cries out, belly flexing with orgasm. She coos his name, soft and tender. Creamy and hot, his semen leaks over the insides of her thigh. Skin made red from his beard and biting. She wraps his shuddering frame in her arms, caresses the hair stuck to his temple. And for a time she watches the water pass and shine. His breath gusts slow on her neck. Her pulse slows. They are lazy once more.

“Emmaline.”

“Hmm.”

Jimmy cups her chin in the vee of his thumb and forefinger. He kisses her again in that melting way. As if deriving nourishment. Their bodies slotted together in the crushed grass. 

Under the slow pleasure of his gaze, she speaks, voice soft as his fingers wound in her hair,

“The weather should hold for awhile. We could stay for a bit.”

“For as long as you want,” Jimmy says. 

She catches his eyes, a smile works its way into her voice. “You’re sure? I could get a ticket to someplace. Hours of trains and car rides included.”

Jimmy nods in that serious way he reserves for meetings and contract signings. “Make sure to include some turbulence to the flight, my darling.”

“A good squall, maybe.”

He chuckles and combs her hair from her face. “For as long as you want.”

The soft animal of her body curls to his chest. Jimmy receives her with a nudge to her nose, his sleepy smile tinged with crinkles. The depth of her need slung backward and forward, need known in her blood’s rush, need starved. Need met.

**Author's Note:**

> In the beginning of the story, Emma reads an article by Allan McDougall called “Led Take-Over Germany,” which was published in New Musical Express in July of 1970. The full article is available on the LZ website. The phrase, soft animal of her body, comes directly from Mary Oliver’s poem, “Wild Geese.” 
> 
> Thank you for reading <33


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